


the aesthetics of pleasure

by exarite



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M, Meet-Cute, Referenced Porn Video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 13:31:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19252198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exarite/pseuds/exarite
Summary: Hannibal Lecter did not watch porn.If he did, though, it would certainly explain why the man waiting in line with him looked incredibly familiar.





	the aesthetics of pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt #230](https://meetcuteprompts.tumblr.com/post/123592247429/230-the-meet-cute): A is waiting in line when they notice B who looks incredibly familiar, but A can’t quite place where they recognize them from. When they exchange glances, A smiles and says hello, thinking that they must have met before – until B says, “Do we know each other?” After talking for a few minutes A realizes that they recognize B from… um, well some amateur NSFW videos online.
> 
> written for the [hannigram meet cute challenge!!](https://fhimechan.tumblr.com/post/185625497897/hannigraham-meet-cute-challenge-summer-came)

Hannibal Lecter did not watch porn.

Most, if not all pornography simply took out the aesthetics of sex—the  _ best _ part of sex, arguably, and Hannibal found most of it to be demeaning, unrealistic, and at times grotesque and obscene to the point of disdain.

He usually thought himself above the base, physiological need of sex, but despite his superiority in other aspects, Hannibal was still just a man. A man, in this case, who still sometimes needed the satisfaction of sex.

And while he had no trouble finding lovers, it just took considerably less effort to rely on his hand and his vivid imagination. However, he also had to admit that while unneeded, further stimulation was…much appreciated.

So, indeed.

Hannibal Lecter did not watch porn, except for when he did.

*

Hannibal glanced at his watch and shifted in place, just barely holding in an irritated sigh. Usually, he'd be satisfied enough by his French coffee press in his kitchen, but it had been uncooperative this Tuesday morning.

If he had known that the morning rush in the nearest coffee shop would result in a wait as long as this one, he would have simply just foregone coffee itself this morning.

He resolved to drop by the store later after his sessions to replace his coffee press. It wouldn't do to go through this again.

Beside him, a man stepped up, brushing against his shoulder. The other man mumbled a half-hearted apology and glanced up, his lips pursed into a not-quite-smile. Recognizing the man's face, Hannibal straightened up and automatically gave a practiced, winning smile back.

The man was handsome, even with the messy scruff, the even messier hair, the dark eye bags, and the gaunt look on his face. While Hannibal was blanking on a name at the moment, he was familiar. Familiar enough that Hannibal was quickly going through his mental Rolodex, trying to match a name to the face in front of him.

"Hello," he greeted as he did so. It wouldn't do to be rude, and forgetting an acquaintance's name was often taken as such.

The man frowned. "Do I know you?" he asked, tone bordering on caustic, enough that Hannibal's lips automatically thinned.

Hannibal momentarily faltered, blinking once, twice, before he renewed his smile.

"Ah, I apologize. You seemed familiar, and I assumed we were previously acquainted."

The man's eyes narrowed, flicking up to meet Hannibal's just for a moment before he shied away. "No. I don't think so." Short and to the point. He made to turn, his shoulders hunched in a half-formed defensive gesture. Not directed specifically at Hannibal, but one made in response to the entire world.

Hannibal tilted his head, curious despite himself.

"Yes," he mused out loud. "I don't think we run in the same circles."

Nevertheless. This man was familiar, and it was beginning to bother Hannibal that he couldn't recall a name, much less an instance where they'd be acquainted. He prided himself on his good memory, but it was failing him spectacularly now.

The man glanced back at him again, up through his eyelashes, beneath his glasses. On anyone else, Hannibal would almost assume it to be flirtatious or coy. In the few minutes that they've been in each other's presence though, Hannibal was already strangely confident that there was no deeper intent.

"No," said the man. His eyes flicked down to Hannibal's suit, his tie, all the way down to his shoes. Appraising, but with only the barest hints of appreciation. Not quite enough for Hannibal to preen, but enough for him to smile again. "I don't think so either."

The man adjusted his jacket, and Hannibal's lips pulled downwards at how unflattering it was on him. Hannibal wondered how even despite the ill fit of his clothes, he managed to exude something appealing. Something interesting. It was that brief peek of his eyes, the dark look there, that helped stir a mild sort of curiosity in Hannibal.

"Dr. Lecter," he introduced himself smoothly. He stuck out his hand. Even if the man did, in fact, turn out to be a stranger, his face familiar for no discernible reason, Hannibal didn't mind making his acquaintance. At least for now.

The man frowned, reluctant and wary. He glanced at the line ahead of the both of them, significantly shortened in the minutes they've spent talking.

"Will," he finally said. "Will Graham." He took Hannibal's hand and shook it, short and perfunctory, before he dropped his hand back to his side and started to pat around his pockets.

Hannibal hummed. The name, unlike the handsome face, was wholly unfamiliar. Perhaps Will Graham simply bore a resemblance to someone Hannibal actually  _ did _ know. He wasn't too prideful to admit that he might have made a mistake.

Mystery solved, Hannibal relaxed.

"Not fond of eye contact, are you?" he said mildly. Will paused in the search of his pockets and then turned back to face him, his face pinched.

"What kind of doctor did you say you were again?"

"I didn't."

"Yeah, I thought so."

"But I am a psychiatrist, actually."

Will scoffed. "Figures. Don't psychoanalyze me, doctor."

Hannibal opened his mouth and then closed it.  _ Rude _ , he thought. How very, very rude. The acerbic look on Will's face made his fingers twitch. Hannibal stared at the back of Will's neck as the other man turned and looked towards the cashier, giving his order briskly and somehow without meeting the lady's eyes even once.

Or perhaps, Hannibal admitted to himself after that first rush of rage was tamped and boxed and set aside, it was he who was being rude.

He waited until after he ordered his coffee before he stepped up beside the slouched form of Will Graham. He had his hands in his pockets, and his stance was loose as he stared at the waiting area of the counter.

"I apologize," Hannibal said, tilting his head and flashing a charming, thin-lipped smile. "That was unasked for. I didn't mean to offend."

Wil turned his head and frowned at him. Hannibal didn't understand it, but his prickliness was unbearably attractive. He found himself amused and curious at his own burgeoning attraction. Was it the challenge? How despite his practiced charm, none of it seemed to work on Will Graham?

"It's fine," Will finally allowed, and Hannibal's smile widened. How did he ever think he was already acquainted with Will Graham? Surely someone like him would have stuck out in his memory.

"May I ask what it is you do?" Hannibal asked. He couldn't resist from slipping into a flirtatious tone, testing out the waters. Not crude, never, but smooth and suggestive.

Will's eyes darted up at him in surprise, and self-satisfaction warmed Hannibal at the sight of them. It only deepened as Will's gaze darted back and forth over his features, unsure and confused.

"I teach," Will slowly said, "at the FBI Academy."

"Admirable," Hannibal praised. "Molding future agents."

Will smiled at that, small, barely there, and ducked his head. "I suppose."

He shifted, and then, hesitantly and almost apologetically, he said,  "Eyes are distracting." Their previous topic of conversation. Will shrugged and scratched at the back of his neck before he pushed his glasses up. "You see too much, you don't see enough. And—And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, um,  _ oh, those whites are really white _ , or,  _ he must have hepatitis _ , or,  _ oh, is that a burst vein? _ So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible."

How utterly fascinating.

"Will!" The young man called from behind the counter before Hannibal could respond. Will tilted his head in acknowledgment and Hannibal watched as Will strode forward and took his coffee. Will took an immediate sip, heedless of the heat, and then—

Will moaned, long and drawn out and full of pleasure and—

Hannibal froze.

Sense memory flickered into the front of his brain, half-forgotten, his memory palace perking up as it opened a door from a few years back.

Oh, he thought dimly.

_ That _ certainly explained why Will Graham's face was familiar.

*

During those rare days that Hannibal felt the urge to sate himself sexually and wasn't satisfied with his imagination, he quickly figured out his preference for the erotic. The few that were bearable, stimulating, fit his tastes and actually helped him to attain release seemed to fall into either two categories.

There was the aesthetically appealing that just so happened to be sexual in nature as well. Titillating artwork that aroused and spoke to his exact tastes, sometimes not even explicit in nature. Simply sensual. The curve of a neck, a still of bound hands. Tasteful.

And then his guilty pleasure, amateur videos. Not all, true, but there were ones that reached deep into him. They were raw and honest, real and all the more satisfying for it. The sounds of pleasure were genuine and not overexaggerated.

There was one in particular that, now reminded, Hannibal could remember very, very clearly.  Dusty in his memory place, but with a quick rub, it came back to him in high definition.

Hannibal closed his eyes.

Hannibal hadn't even meant to click on the video. The title had been something like  **Broke Straight Boy Jacks Off,** and it was just the sort of video that Hannibal would have immediately clicked out off due to disinterest. When he saw the labeled ‘straight boy’ though, Hannibal had paused.

The man in the video was young, clean-shaven, and there was no barrier of glasses to block his eyes from the camera. His hair was curly and wild, framing his delicate features beautifully. Clear skin, full pink lips, a Botticelli angel given flesh and form.

And Hannibal had let the video play.

And play.

And play.

*

"Well," Will said, hiking up his messenger bag over his shoulder. He shifted awkwardly and made a half-hearted, reluctant motion with his hand towards the door. "I have a class to teach."

Now that certainly wouldn't do.

Not when Hannibal already knew how Will Graham sounded in pleasure. Not when he knew the exact scrunch of Will's face as he came.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card.

"Please," he said. "I'd love to talk some more."

Will blinked down at his outstretched hand. "In what manner?" He didn't take the card, but Hannibal smiled as he saw Will's free hand twitch at his side.

"Whatever you're comfortable with," he replied, his eyes half-lidded, a smile teasing at the curve of his lips. "But I would prefer a date if you'd have me."

Will's eyes widened, his lips parting, a lovely flush immediately darkening his cheeks, and Hannibal's smile widened. It was almost the exact same shade his chest went in the video, right before Will had finished himself off.

Hurriedly, Will took his card and shoved it into his pocket, looking away. He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. "I'll see about that, Doctor."

Hannibal tore his gaze away as his name was called for the counter.

"I'll wait," he said. "Eagerly."

*

Later—

"Are you done?" Will asked. His face was pinched with impatience, his nose scrunched, and Hannibal looked up from his sketchbook.

He smiled winningly and reached out to adjust the sheet draped over Will's hip, fixing it until it was perfect.

"Not quite," he said apologetically. That amateur video of years back didn't even come close to giving justice to Will's fine features. Hannibal wanted something that would suit his aesthetics, and it helped that Will was already plenty pleasing by nature.

Will sighed.

 

 

 

And much, much later—

"I really don't know why they labeled me as straight," Will said, his eyebrows drawn together. He looked simultaneously intrigued and bothered by the video of himself in his mid-20's.

"The fetishization of straight men in gay porn, I suppose," Hannibal said mildly. He couldn’t decide where to look. Even now, the sight of Will with his mouth hanging open, his hand fisting over his length—

"You know you don't have much room to talk, right?" Will said, glancing at him in amusement and interrupting his train of thought. "You did click and watch and jack off to it, didn't you?"

Hannibal's lips thinned and he blinked at Will, once, twice. Will only grinned at him and Hannibal sighed.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm exarite on tumblr uwu


End file.
